


Reconnaissance

by ardour



Category: The Bletchley Circle
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, F/F, First Kiss, First Time, Lesbian Character, My First Work in This Fandom, Resolved Sexual Tension, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardour/pseuds/ardour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan breaks down at her desk while working, and Jean sends Millie to comfort her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reconnaissance

.----

 

Millie watches Susan.

She watches Susan at work, leaning her cheek on her hand, as if daydreaming. She looks at the knuckles of Susan’s hand, fine bones tense under the skin, fingers balled in a fist, signs that she’s thinking hard.

When Susan pulls her cheek away from her fist, the knuckles leave a pool of pink skin that reminds Millie of the rouge painted on actresses’ faces. On Susan, it looks indecent.

Millie finds herself staring. Seeing Susan’s skin and blood respond like this -- even to the touch of her own hand -- is worth risking a cold glare from her supervisor. But Jean is marching along the row now, wanting to see if Millie’s made any progress with the maps in front of her, a jumble of blue veins.

Millie looks away.

 

 

..---

Susan watches Millie.

She watches Millie at rest, moving easily around the dorm in her nightdress. She positions herself so that she can watch Millie in the act of taking off her smart red slippers.

As Millie’s feet come into contact with the freezing cold floor, her breasts swell into a new shape, and the cloth of her nightdress tightens over her nipples. For a moment, Susan thinks, Millie is one of those gorgeous statues in the museum. They look as though blood runs warm beneath their marble skin, but you can’t touch them.

Now Millie is laughing as she pulls on two pairs of woollen socks, one on top of the other. The two thin worry-lines she wears during her shift have disappeared, and Susan feels a rush of pure happiness when she looks at her.

Susan looks away.

 

 

…--

 

“Girls, come on,” says Jean, “There are blanks we still need to fill in here. Keep working. We need to figure this out as soon as possible.”

Some hours later, Millie glances up from her desk for the hundredth time and is startled to see Susan slumped over her desk, leaning her head on her forearms. She’s trying to hide the tears running down her face.

 

“What’s wrong, Susan?”

Susan groans and rubs her hand over her eyes, angry with Millie for calling attention to her distress.

“It’s wrong. There must be key documents we don’t have. Millie, I’m at a dead end.”

 

Jean, always alert to the smallest disturbance among the girls, appears at Millie’s shoulder and takes control of the situation.

“We’re going to keep trying, even if it’s hopeless. Millie, get Susan off the floor. We can’t have her distracting the other girls.”

 

Susan hears this and raises her voice in protest, but Jean cuts her short.

“Look, you’ve been and cried on these documents. Oh, Susan. Take her to the dorm, Millie. Go on, I’ll sign you both off for tonight.”

There’s a brush of kindness in her voice, but after hours of frustration and a mounting sense of defeat, her patience is thin.

“Before I change my mind!”

 

Millie stands behind Susan’s chair and tugs on the sleeve of her cardigan.

“Susan, don’t make me hold your hand,” she says.

Susan gets to her feet, and follows Millie out like she’s just been court-martialled.

 

 

…._

 

Millie makes Susan wash her face. She stands stone-still in the middle of the room while Millie begins getting ready for bed.

“Oh, Susan. Don’t do that. You’ll break my heart. Look at your poor feet.”

Susan looks at her reproachfully, as if to say, _Leave me alone to be miserable_.

 

“Fine, stew in your own juice. If you don’t want some extra hours’ sleep, stay up and read or something. Do you want to borrow my slippers?”

Susan clasps her hands together on her chest. She’s about to cry again, Millie thinks, reading a tremble in Susan’s throat.

 

Millie can’t help herself. She folds her arms around Susan, whose hands end up caught between their bodies. Millie pulls away. There’s no need to humiliate herself by pressing her breasts into Susan’s hands.

“Bloody hell, you’re cold darling. You’re shivering like mad. Let’s warm you up. Just think, three blankets instead of one!”

But Susan steps forward and pushes her face into Millie’s shoulder, and Millie feels Susan’s breath through her blouse. So she stands there and lets Susan cling to her, and finally Susan lets out a shuddering breath and opens her mouth against Millie’s neck.

 

“I hate to think that you’re disappointed in me.”

"No, never. Why would you think that?”

“I felt inadequate -- no, I felt useless. Worse than a coward.”

 

Millie sighs and runs her hand over Susan’s back. Susan feels each finger as though it were a brand, and she knows that she won’t move a muscle for as long as Millie holds her hand there.

 _Don’t touch her_ , thinks Millie. _For God’s sake woman, just try to make her feel better_.

 

“I think you’re a genius. But you’re not responsible for World War Two.”

 

Millie’s not teasing her, just stating the facts -- and it helps.

“I know,” she says, “I know.”

 

Then Millie takes her hand away. Susan feels something spin inside her and click into place. She wants, more than anything, to keep Millie close. She looks up at her, and Millie sees her tongue sneak out to glaze her lip, as though she’s about to speak again.

 

“Millie,” she says, “This is probably the wrong thing. And please tell me.”

 

Her voice shakes, and a flush spreads along her neck. Millie just nods, because she feels rooted to the spot. She can’t speak. She can’t move her hand from where it’s come to rest on Susan’s hip.

 

“Probably not what you…” Susan’s words fade out, but she doesn’t take her eyes from Millie.

“Millie,” she says, her eyes dark and unreadable, “How do you feel when I do this --”

 

Her head sinks forward, and before Millie can even categorize what she feels with Susan’s mouth printed on the bare skin of her shoulder, Susan has lifted her head away and is looking at her intently.

 

“You knew. Oh God.”

Susan asks her again, “How do you feel?”

 

“I don’t know. I _don’t know_.”

Susan’s mouth on her skin is like Susan constellating Millie’s body with that damned pencil of hers.

 

“I keep looking at you, Millie. All the time. I don’t want to stop. I’m sorry.”

“I've been looking at you too. Some genius. You're absolutely oblivious, aren't you?"

 

"Not quite," says Susan. She slips her hand over the nape of Millie’s neck, and guides Millie’s mouth to hers. She tastes Solidox toothpaste, and beneath that the taste of Millie’s breath. It’s stronger than she expected, but sweet.

Susan presses her tongue along the line where Millie’s lips meet, and as she forces them apart, Millie lets out a small wet sob. Susan mutters inside her,

“Don’t you dare cry _now_.”

 

Millie gets Susan on the bed. She pushes her knee between Susan’s, and pushes further, closing her eyes as Susan’s hands make new progress down her body. When she opens her eyes again, Susan's hair is radiating out across the pillow, beautiful in a way Millie’s never seen before.

 

Slowly, Millie lowers herself until her thigh is bearing down on Susan’s pubis. She kisses Susan again, with a sudden motion that cuts her breath short and leaves her panting beneath Millie’s body.

“Wait. Stop. Help me get my tights off.”

They manage to ladder the tights and lose a button from Susan’s blouse. Millie pulls her nightdress over her head and slings it over the headboard.

 

Finally, Susan leans back again, this time pulling Millie with her.

“Knees up a bit,” says Millie, Meet me halfway.”

 “You know what you’re doing.”

 Millie leans into the clutch of Susan’s thighs and begins to rock against her. She watches Susan's lips form syllables that don't amount to words.

 

 

_....._

 

Millie strokes Susan’s hair back from her forehead, waiting for her eyes to open. She checks the clock again. The evening shift is almost over.

“You can’t sleep here, darling,” she says. “Back to bed, now. Back to bed.”

 


End file.
